Untouchable Ones
by MadebyPierrot
Summary: They were experts of pain and pleasure. Sophistication and caution shielding their little world called simply The Cage. It was all so easy the choices they made. She the master and he the slave. but the lines were blurring and who were they to judge?
1. Chapter 1

**Hiya!**

**A/N:  
><strong>

** I did promise this story and here it is! :P**

**Now my lovely ones...this is a M rated fic for a reason and those reasons...are exactly what they are no need to elaborate any further. *grins evilly***

**This idea gave me a whiplash the other day and my neck still hurt till now *grimaces* that was how strongly it smacked me right on the face! XD**

**It's just absolutely delicious to me and I couldn't resist. **

**Hope you lovely readers like it. :)**

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><p>A woman's face with nature's own hand painted,<p>

hast thou, the master mistress of my passion;

A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted

-**Shakespeare**-

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><p>•<strong>Prologue<strong>•

-**The Fallen Angel**-

The flickering neon sign across the street alternating with flashes of headlights flitted through a gap on the curtain and every now and then would illuminate the walls and the rumpled sheets of the unmade bed. The room was pitch dark and stiffly silent. At the foot of the bed, on the floor a small figure was lying on her side with her knees drawn up to her chest, her thin arms covering her face and her lustrous black hair in complete disarray scattered over her shoulders and slender neck.

She was peeking over her bent elbow, her large amethyst eyes glazed over. A black lace and silk negligee haphazardly covering her body with one strap slipping over one pale shoulder. Her creamy skin seemed to glow faintly in the shadows.

What the darkness so discreetly hid were the dozens of empty bottles of Jack black label scattered at her feet and the tell-tale white powdery substance on the small table. A pack of Marlboro lights and an overflowing ashtray near her head for easy access. But she had not moved for the past five hours. She just stared on blankly as if some invisible force was pinning her down.

It had been too long since she had been in the normal world. Way too long to even remember what the streets looked like, what the places she used to be so familiar with were like. The sights, the sounds, and the things she used to be a part of now seemed more like a dream than ever.

She had seemed lost, like a child separated from her mother in a crush of people on a crowded sidewalk and the light was flashing green urging her to walk forward. But she couldn't, she just stood there frozen and scared. Feeling insignificant and small, trying to pull more of her tiny body into herself—to disappear.

Yes. To disappear.

Completely and utterly separated from the realities she used to be engrossed in at some point until it got too disconcerting for her. Then withdrawing from living it, she had succumbed to the lowest level of hell but somehow it was also heaven. Either or neither it did not really matter because for once she finally existed.

It was a place where the rules weren't really rules. Where every little thing you ever wanted or wished for you could do, you could have without a hint of repercussion from the scrutiny of society. The preaching is just as sacred, the rites just as intricate. The pleasure uninhibited yet restricted—if preferred. One can be the master or the slave. But most of the time the slave remains a slave; trained to perfection, responsive, penitent and wholly sinful.

Anyone can have anything. Everything was available, all of it exquisitely beautiful. Decadence and debauchery in its most perverted splendor, the lush and controlled principles all for utter satisfaction. A one way ticket to heaven or to hell…you take your pick. The slaves are at your beck and call.

She was the one who made sure things went well, always had since it all started. Always.

They called her the Fallen Angel. It was because she was both sweetly innocent and darkly malicious. She excites, she thrills. And it was not just because she was lovely, not just because her slight build had all the curves in all the right places. She was capable. And they depended on her and her ability to keep things together.

She knows all the tricks, she was the master. They worshiped her. They could not—would not exist if not for her. She had put everything into motion and yet she owns nothing of it.

This was her life and everything else merely revolves around her in The Cage.

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><p><strong>What do you think? O.o Tell me if it's interesting enough to continue.<strong>

**Thanks for reading!**

**-kimchi-  
><strong>

**See ya all soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hiya!**

**Yay! Update! :)**

**Ooohh~! Reviews! Faves! Alerts! Yay! *happily grins like an idiot***

**A/N: **

**Subtle hints in words. Thinking need not be an exercise if you immerse in it with an open mind. x.X**

**-kimchi-  
><strong>

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><p>when her mouth suddenly rising,<p>

wholly begins with mine fiercely to fool

(And from my thighs which shrug and pant

a murdering rain leapingly reaches

the upward singular deepest flower

which she carries in a gesture of her hips)

**-E.E. Cummings-**

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><p>•<strong>Chapter One<strong>•

-**The Auction**-

She had been born and bred into a lavish and glamorous world of the first class. Everything was shiny, glittering and fantastic. Nothing was ever amiss; every little thing always goes on smoothly without a glitch. Mistakes, failures were mere inconceivable fictitious notions that equalled to mediocrity and that was an offense none of the upper echelon would ever commit willingly. It was all so sublime that it almost made her think many, many times that none of it really existed.

The sardonic rich as she heard they were called. It was making her sick and yet she swallowed it all. She had to for it was the only thing to do. She was expected to participate in the blandness of it, the boredom and the repetitiveness of it all. She was required. But it did not shape her, she had always harbored a mind of her own though not visible through the layers of deceit she wore on her face everyday. The mask she repainted every morning, redesigning, realigning to give the proper effect of contentment.

It was ridiculous.

It was the most beautiful lie she had ever encountered yet she lived it. She was a part of it. She was essential in its inner workings, the backroom VIP velvet curtain shows. It was real, oh it was all real.

Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she walked briskly towards the hall where the auction was to be held. She was at least five minutes late and her brother would not be happy if he ever finds out. She gritted her teeth as the double doors she just swept past through were closed at once the moment she stepped in. A few curious stares were directed at her as she slowly weaved her way through the crowd which she returned with a practiced smile making them incline their head at her in return realizing who it was they were looking at so openly.

Ah, it had been a blessed few seconds when they did not recognize her. She made a good choice in lopping off a chunk of her hair into a rather purposefully uneven bob. She had not regretted it when she stumbled into the salon half stoned out of her mind but still somehow lucid enough to give directions on what she wanted done.

It was a good vacation in an out of sorts way. The last one she will have in a while until Open Season starts and the new slaves have been prepped then maybe, just maybe.

This year's auction was supposed to be the biggest and the best slaves were said to be in the market. Everyone here was sizing up everyone else. Who had come, who to look for and who to possibly make way for in the heat of the bidding. It was still just business and the hierarchy attached to it was strictly enforced through sheer manners.

The best, the freshest, the most beautiful would always belong to The Cage. They were the leader of the pack and the lowlies always give them the best choice of the first pick. And Kuchiki Rukia knew exactly how to choose the best and how to make them, mold them into the perfect slave.

She came to a stop somewhere at the sidelines of the catwalk almost standing against the wall as she sipped on the champagne she picked up from the tray of a passing slave. This was where she usually prefers to stand, close enough to appraise every inch of their body. To study the exquisite planes, the sensual curves, the softness and the hardness.

Her assistant sidled up to her right with a slight bow. Her white hair coiffed into a messy French bun kept in place by a jeweled pin. "Rukia-sama…The Merchant has been notified of your arrival. He has set up the private selection for you. Please right this way." She was gesturing with her arm for Rukia to precede her and on her other hand she was clutching a tablet.

"List." Rukia muttered as she held out her small hand towards her assistant who was doubling her pace just to keep up with her. She handed her the tablet and she immediately flipped through the profiles of the new slaves. As always they were all beautiful. But there has always been a great difference between a picture and the real thing and Rukia tends to be very picky with her purchases.

The privilege of inspecting them up close was only given to her and like always she was assured by it. She was not so thorough with inspections, just a little touch here and there. And she would never dream of hurting them if she was displeased in any way, they have their handlers for that reason.

There were a dozen of them all lined up like good school children. Their hands were bound at their back by leather cuffs, padded of course. No one really gets hurt and they especially take very good care of the slaves that are being auctioned. No marks should be inflicted on their body especially when they are whipped. It takes a special kind of hand to properly inflict pain without bruising the skin and an even more capable hand to inflict pleasure along with it.

She let a small smile slip on her lips as she approached them but it was gone almost as quickly as she reached the first one. He was tall as most of the men are and even some of the women. This one looked like a Guess model, brown hair, chiseled jaw and dark eyes. He was looking straight ahead, unmoving. She ran her fingertips over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the heat emanating in waves from his skin the lower her hand got. His abdomen clenched when she pinched his nipple and hooked her thumb over the waistband of his pants, he was already hard. She narrowed her eyes and smirked making a little motion with her hand before moving on to the next this time a woman. Very pretty with pouting lips that actually looked natural with a healthy dark red tint. Rukia tilted her head and raised the beaded bib covering her chest to look at her breasts. The woman's nose flared as she cupped one perfect breast. They were large with dusky nipples contrasting with her light skin. She did not move nor made a noise. Rukia smiled and motioned that she wanted her too.

She turned her head to inspect the next when the side door was silently opened and two men in black suits roughly threw in another slave. She caught the flash of unruly orange hair as he stumbled into the room. She watched his back muscles rippling as his body tensed when he finally understood where he was. For a second Rukia was entranced by the sight of him, the natural tan of his skin, his sinewy build, his long and lean limbs and his abrupt arrival distracted her but just as he was turning around Rukia turned her attention back to look up at the passive face of the man before her and frowned as she saw that he looked too feminine, too fragile, his features too fine that he could dress up as a drag queen and be even more beautiful than most of the women in the room. But then again she could use a beauty like him.

She went through the rest in the first line and picked another man just because he was too delicious to pass up. In the next line she picked another woman with the exquisite curves she had always been particular to when choosing women slaves.

The very last slave stood rigidly straight and aloof by himself at the back of the room, the very same man that arrived last rather unceremoniously. Rukia approached him slowly trying to carefully take in the sight of his pure and utter perfection. His expression was arrogant and the look on his face was disturbingly defiant or maybe it was just the scowl. His features were surprisingly refined with a steep and sharp jaw line. Handsome, very much so and overflowing with sensuality it was almost tangible.

She stood in front of him way too closely than she had planned so that their bodies were almost touching. He was tall and lean, just slightly muscular exactly the way she liked it. She raised her hand and heard his low but sharp intake of breath making her look up at his face curiously. He was trying not to look down at her but she knew he already did and his cheeks were flushed in embarrassment. Completely adorable. She pressed her open palm against his chest right above his beating heart. It was unsteady; pounding loudly. It almost reverberated within her to sync with her own irregular heartbeat. He flinched lightly at her touch as though he's been burned but she paid it no mind. She clawed her fingers and raked them over his chest and to his side very lightly so that it almost seemed like a caress. She had meant to turn away but she couldn't. As if her hand had a mind of its own it wouldn't stop touching, couldn't help feeling his heated skin growing steadily hotter.

Her chest was tightening and she was finding it hard to breathe. She was feeling lightheaded and she barely registered that he was gripping her hand that had managed to snake around his waist to his back straight to his hand. Their bodies were pressed together and the heat between them was becoming unbearable. She was losing her mind as desire creeped its traitorous way higher and higher, clouding her senses.

She took a deep shaky breath and tugged at her hand but he would not let her go. She looked up at his face with narrowed eyes and found he had been looking down at her the entire time. His brown eyes were dark with lust and she could almost imagine herself giving in. But she had not arrived at her post with unexpected bouts of weakness in between and during work. She knew better than that but she had to take a moment to steady herself as she wrapped her other arm around him to reach for his hand that gripped hers and slowly pried his fingers off, her steady gaze never faltering from holding his unnervingly smoldering one.

Right that moment this vision of absolute perfection was pulling at the threads keeping her together. At that very moment she absolutely loathed him this…whatever the hell this is! And now she desperately needs a drink. She glanced at her assistant who had been patiently waiting for her to finish and nodded her head once. She let his hand drop and brushed past him right through the direction of the side door and angrily jerked it open. She strode out of the room in a state of agitation. She did not like it. She did not like it at all.

But she will be damned if she did not buy him! It was for the sake of The Cage. It was always for that reason that she chooses, that she decides, that she was still alive however way that can be defined for her.

She turned sharply to the unobtrusive door to her immediate right and opened it without bothering to knock and closed it behind her with a soft click.

"Ah, may I help you…madam?" a fanciful and rather pleasant drawling voice of a man spoke from the shadowed part of the room. The table lamp and a few of the sconces were lit, bathing the room with a dim orange light barely enough to give proper illumination which was really not its purpose.

"It's me." She replied in a clipped tone and folded her arms over her chest as she glared at the man she knew would be reclining on the leather chair on the other side of the mahogany desk before her.

"Oh? Rukia-sama?" his tone changed to surprise and a little bit of confusion as his chair squeaked followed by a thud as he finally got to his feet. His footsteps echoed in the room as he made his way around the table to stand before her. He peered at her from beneath the rim of his hat for a moment and grinned with a shake of his head. "Looks good…your brother seen this yet?"

"No. He won't for a while so it doesn't matter…" she plopped down on the sofa and crossed her legs. "Not gonna offer me a drink? You've become such a poor host, Urahara…"

Urahara clucked his tongue reprovingly, "This is not a bar you know…" But he poured her a drink anyway.

She raised the glass in mock salute and downed it in one gulp. "One more…"

"You do realize that it's nine in the morning, right?"

Rukia just blinked at him as she held out the empty glass. "And?..."

Urahara just looked at her for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowed. "Did the fresh air do you any good? Did you enjoy the sights?"

Rukia closed her eyes finally feeling a full on migraine about to pound her skull. "That orange head slave…"

"Ah, Kurosaki-san…he is quite the specimen. I knew you'd be very interested in purchasing him so I will give you a decent price for him. As long time business associates of course it is my duty to deliver quality goods to my number one employer…"

"Cut the decency crap. I'm not my brother…you can save your little speeches when he comes back for the Open Season…in about three months?" Rukia opened her eyes with a grimace; she really needs another drink. Actually more like an entire bottle.

"Here…" Urahara held the glass towards her, the ice clinking seductively.

"It was noisy." Rukia muttered under her breath as she took a sip, relishing the burning in her throat and the chill in her mouth. Then she grinned before popping an ice cube in her mouth and emptying the glass.

"Welcome home." Urahara replied lamely as he opened the door and bowed at her with comical flourish, tipping his hat and putting it back on just as quickly.

"Yeah…" Rukia said as she stepped out slowly a little smirk on her lips.

"I am home."

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! :)<strong>

**So do tell and indulge this author with a review. What do you think eh? Is it good? Alright? Not good? Bad?** Please do leave a **REVIEW**!

**-kimchi-**

**See ya all soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hiya!**

**Update! Yay! :)**

**A/N:**

**I am indeed very surprised to see that this story have loads of readers already! O.O **

**And yay! More reviewers, favs and alerts! Yay! *waltzes around like some cuckoo***

* * *

><p>•<strong>Chapter Two<strong>•

-**The Slave**-

It had all been so very vague in the beginning. Skin touching skin, the overwhelming heat. Not once had he been afraid. There was no moment of indecision for him as he plunged into this world. He had always wanted to see what was behind the veil, the whispered words of longing, the pain and more so the pleasure.

Desire had been everywhere. If he could describe it he would say he saw it in colors, the waves of heat, the chilling cold of the metal cuffs and the sting of the whip.

It was the personification of the fantasies he himself would rarely indulge in. But he found it exciting to participate, to play along as master or slave and he was always ready. He was good, he knew what to do, when to do it, how to push and push until it was too much. Until it was all just pure blissful agony.

And now he's finally come to this point, the place where the most servile and versatile of practitioners and slaves gather to participate in their dark doctrine. Where surviving the commandments without breaking a single one was the ultimate condition.

He needed no aphrodisiac, nothing to speed it up. That would only ruin the natural high he got from it.

Now he was here. He had come to the place every slave had wanted to step into, be lost into. Every master willing to submit, to play the game. Because it was all it really is, an elaborate play of make believe.

His bare chest was covered with a light sheen of sweat after having been punished just a little while ago for being disobedient. His hands were bound together but it wasn't uncomfortable at all. He was used to it and his body was already reacting to the slow brutality of their handling. He was being led into a tastefully elegant hallway, marble flooring, old oak paneling, crystal chandeliers and Michelangelo's works reproduced on the towering ceiling. It was all so very rich and he could not help but look around in awe.

The only clothing he had on was loose black muslin pants hanging low on his narrow hips perfectly showcasing his ripped abs. He was barefoot and the hard coldness of the marble floor made the burning in his body all the more prominent making him shudder. It wasn't agonizing anymore not like the first few times when he was just beginning his training. He had been trained very well and for the last year he had been in high demand but The Merchant had never went back in his decision to sell him to the big joint and he was glad. It had been his idea after all. There was only so much he could learn from servicing privately when there was this place where he would be given the chance to choose who he wanted. And not to mention he'll be very, very well compensated after his contract ends.

For him it wasn't even a matter of survival or being the greatest, it was just it; the act in itself and surrendering to the moment but not for release but for the prolonged want and the capability to hold on to the absolute feeling of desire. It was precious to him, feeling; because sometimes he found it hard to be bothered by it. No it was not a constant numbness. It was as if there was a switch somewhere that would automatically shut off and just leave the raging lust to overpower his mind. He found it easy now to be aroused by the mere inkling of desire. Back then he couldn't even get hard, now his body was severed from his conscious mind. He was just simply responsive.

The suits as he had taken to calling them suddenly opened a door to his right and shoved him in without warning almost making him fall on his face. He stumbled a bit before he finally noticed that there were people in the room he had been brought in. Very slowly he turned and found that there were other slaves all lined up and slightly fidgeting against their binds. They looked extremely embarrassed and undoubtedly uncomfortable. There was a woman standing on the sides, looking very prim in an expensive tailored suit jacket and ultra tight pencil skirt. She had her attention fixed on one of the slaves up front, a willowy man with lightly bronzed skin who was shaking where he stood.

He watched too for a while then finally the slave sort of deflated or sighed, he really couldn't tell then a petite woman casually stepped towards the next slave. His eyes widened in surprise to see her. So this would have to be the inspection he had been hearing all morning from the suits, the important client, one of the elite master of the best joint in creation.

She looked edgy with her lustrous black hair cut in some sort of unrecognizable bob. She was dressed in charcoal gray cigar pants that were tight on the hips and loose over her slim legs and a purplish indigo chiffon and lace blouse off setting her large amethyst eyes that were slightly narrowed as she scrupulously studied the slave before her. Suddenly he had a sinking feeling that he won't be picked, that she'll find some sort of fault in him and flick him off like a bug on the wall. He swallowed thickly, the sudden fear making him lightheaded.

He kept his eyes on her as she made her way through the lines. She moved with languid almost careless grace, her every movement enticing and sensual. There was something about her, an almost magnetic pull that was making his stomach squirm in anticipation. Like a supercharged session of foreplay that was making him breathless from wanting to just explode.

She was walking towards him now and he trained his gaze forward like the good little slave that he was. He wanted to show her just how well trained he was. His heart was thundering in his chest, he could feel his entire body pulsating the more she came nearer to him until she was standing so close, so very close that her perfume was making him heady. Her lustrous hair was beautifully tousled like she just rolled out of bed; her lovely face that was slightly pinched earlier was now smooth as she inspected him. He watched the light playing in her eyes, how they seem to abruptly change in color with the slightest provocation.

He was breathing quickly through his nose, trying to keep his chest from heaving then she suddenly raised her small hand and he gasped. Cursing himself inwardly, he felt his cheeks burn at the display of weakness. He was surprised that he did not even have to force himself to be submissive; it just came out like a reaction to something as natural as falling down and reaching for something to grab hold on to.

She was looking up at him, her eyes curious, a little smirk on the corner of her pink lips. Then she touched him, her small hand was cool and soft and he had to control himself from becoming aroused just by a single touch but it was already too late. Heat was spreading all over his body as she raked her nails across his torso then sliding down the small of his back and slipping into his hand. She was pressed against him now; he could feel the heat from beneath her blouse mingling with his own.

When their gazes met he had the sudden inexplicable urge to kiss her, feel those soft looking petal pink lips and bruise them. But she was prying his hand off hers and she had turned away from him but not before he caught the glimmer of hate in her eyes that had become hard as she walked out of the room without a single word.

He blinked furiously, dazed with what just happened. He had never been drawn so powerfully to a single woman before and the feeling was confusing. It was strange this tightening in his chest, the want for her to keep touching him.

The assistant was left behind and she was checking the tablet she held on hand and the faces of the slaves, double checking her mistress' choices. She frowned as her icy gaze fell on him, her expression suspicious but only for a moment before it went blank and she too went out of the room through the same door her mistress did.

The master's choices were being rounded up by the handlers who were grinning smugly as they hustled their slaves out. They were led into another lavish room and were told to kneel down as one by one their handlers left probably to collect their payment or to turn over the papers and stuff that belonged to their slaves before entering into this world.

They were a total of five, not one of them meeting the other's gaze. No one seemed inclined to talk. They just waited for whatever will happen next as they waited in a single line on their knees.

It didn't take long for the door to swing open and a few people filed in some with open smiles of greeting, some just smirks and a few grins. From their appearance alone they could only be trainers. There was the whip hanging provocatively on their leather belts that practically gave it away. The last one to enter was the small woman inspecting them earlier.

Almost at once the trainers stood to attention, a few of the slaves started fidgeting again looking apprehensive. They seem to recognize her by the look of fear and awe in their eyes as they watched her.

He knew she was some important hot shot but to think she could draw out such reactions from the haughtiest, the toughest looking trainers in the room made him suddenly wonder what kind of position she really holds. She didn't look like the usual type of trainer because for one she had absolutely no trace of leather in her attire, she carried no whip and she looked soft. As if all it would take for him to break her tiny body was to grip her very tightly.

She was not looking at anyone but her gaze was straight, never faltering, her expression serious as she stood before them.

"They are your trainers…each one of them will choose among you who they will personally handle. From the moment one of them chose one of you, you will belong to them. Follow every little order, every whim, every direction. It is all for your sake what they will be doing for the next three months until finally…your big debut." A little simpering smile crept up her lips, her eyes narrowing slightly. Then she raised her arms as if to say, 'go on then'. Then a few of the trainer took their pick while she, this tiny fragile woman was walking towards him. She had her hands behind her back, her face utterly blank.

He was feeling dizzy again, the blood rushing too quickly. She touched his cheek and he felt himself go red again. She smiled at that as her fingertips traced his features. He wanted to just keep staring at her but she would not have it as she ran her fingertips over his lids making him close his eyes. Then he felt them over his brows that were tightly knitted in a scowl. She was smoothing them out gently. He could hear her purring almost unconsciously as she let her cool fingers brush his lips. He wanted to open his mouth and lick them, even suck on them but that would definitely get him severely punished. A slave doing whatever the hell he wants was not right.

It was a direct disobedience bordering on insolence.

But he could not just stop his thoughts that were wandering with the speed of a derailed freight train and the tracks were going on and on. He couldn't see the end, only the horizon.

Her fingers were sliding down his taut neck making him swallow hard as they landed on his shoulder. Then the next second they were gone, his brows furrowed but he dared not open his eyes. And then he felt it again, both her hands lightly pressing on his shoulders but she was holding something strangely familiar.

Very slowly she wrapped it around his neck very loosely as if she were trying to make him feel what was going to happen next. The moment she tightened it he knew exactly what it was and he was instantaneously excited. His muscles rippled as his desire tripled. It was starting.

It had finally begun.

He felt a light tug as her fingers slid from his skin and to the thing now around his neck. She was already playing with him, the thought made him smirk and he couldn't keep it from showing and he got a sharp tug for it. He could feel her winding the leash over her hand, the leather squeaking softly.

Her cool hand was on his cheek again, her thumb stroking his skin. It felt almost tender, soothing. Then he felt her heat again, the heady scent of her perfume as she leaned in closer to whisper next to his ear. Her lips brushed the shell of his ear, sending pricks of heat straight down almost making _him_ snap to attention. If she decided to follow that with her tongue he might just loose it but she didn't.

But her words did the trick for him.

"You're mine now, Ichigo…"

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><p><strong>Ooohh~lala! :3<strong>

**Thanks for reading! **

****So do tell and indulge this author with a review. What do you think eh? Is it good? Alright? Not good? Bad?** Please do leave a **REVIEW**!**

**See ya all soon! :P  
><strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Yay! Update! *big grin***

**A/N:  
><strong>

**OH SWEET MOTHER OF F#$! O.O**

**How can there be so much, many, a lot of readers? Bahaha! It makes me really, really, reaaallllyyy~~ HAPPY! :D**

**Yay! More reviews! favs! alerts! Yaaaayyyy~~!**

**This chap is a bit more darker than what I've written in the first chaps. So...yeah. I'm not very good with warnings and whatnot but just a heads-up. It's dark...and abrupt! hahaha! I know, I know. But I love to write it like that. It's fun! :D**

**Enjoy! :D  
><strong>

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><p>when sorrows come,<p>

they come not single spies,

but in battalions.

**-Shakespeare-  
><strong>

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><p>•<strong>Chapter Three<strong>•

-**Little Lost Boy**-

He had always been different. Since he was a young child he saw things unlike everyone else around him. He felt like he was a floating piece of junk, undefined and unrecognizable as the people surrounding him went on with their lives like it was the easiest thing to do—living.

Was it because of _her_? No he absolutely despised even thinking, even entertaining the slightest thought that it was because of her. That would only serve to make him appear normal enough to be considered a part of this world. And he was not. He did not blame whatever has happened to him because of one little disappearance. He had not become what he was because she left.

He had been so young but he remembered her so clearly that if he closed his eyes he would definitely picture her image so sharply that sometimes it stung, seeing her smiling, hearing her laughter echoing in his mind. But he couldn't stop it as he couldn't stop himself from becoming what he was.

Was he a freak? A leftover mess from a night of letting loose without considering the consequences?

What did it really mean for him, this life he was pathetically clinging to without care, with wild abandon just the same as what brought him here. He was a mess as had every other thing he came across with. In fact there was not a single thing he came close to that was left untainted. Maybe it was really his fault and maybe they just chose to make him their tool for self-destruction but it didn't really matter. It never really did, not for him.

He didn't yearn for the attention he was given, the not so subtle invitations. Men, women they all wanted the same thing. As if it was all that he could ever offer, as if they were defining what he would become. But he had already let them take something supposedly important from him and with what innocence he had left they have plundered it all. And he did become as they dictated, unwittingly just letting it all go whichever way it pleased. He was stuck in motionlessness and he dared not oppose the current.

He had taken to smoking since that spring day when the _sakura_ littered the walkways, little puddles on the potholes. It had been misty, the rain falling relentlessly in light showers just like this day. He should've been shivering what with only a navy jacket with it's hood shadowing most of his face to act as a cover against the weather as he sat there on the drenched bench nearly finishing his second pack and his third bottle of cheap gin. He wanted vodka but it was beyond his measly means at the moment.

Inhaling deeply as he took a drag off his now damp cigarette he leaned back on the bench, taut neck arched back as he let the rain pelt on his face and was surprised to see an umbrella shielding him. He blinked and straightened up until he was looking up at a grinning man in what he took to be the business men garb. The impeccable suit, lint free and seemingly uncreased perfectly fitted to his slightly muscular built. His shoulder length blond hair was unruly and shaggy and his sharp gray eyes were calculating and slightly malicious as he gazed at him steadily.

He frowned, not in the mood to engage in his 'services' when he was in a foul mood. He deliberately turned his head away, his scowl deepening. But to his surprise the man took the space to his right, not minding that it was wet and would probably ruin that expensive suit he had on. They sat there in silence for some time as his unease grew. He debated whether to just get up and leave but the man suddenly spoke immediately catching his attention.

"Yaah~! It's pretty hard to actually get a hold of you no matter what certain patronages say about how easy it is to get access to you…" he had a slight drawl to his voice and it sounded slightly slurry lending it an almost comical tone.

"I don't do business men or men in general for that matter. But if you're here in place of someone then I'm willing to negotiate the terms…" he replied in a monotone, letting the well rehearsed words take over for the time being.

"Oho! You're quite a frank one! You're so different from…" the man started to chuckle as he spoke then trailed off much more in amusement than tact as he let his sharp eyes flit to the young man slouching beside him.

"I'm not here about that sort of thing…and then again maybe I am but it is in an entirely different premise." His voice had suddenly gone serious but he was still facing the same direction the young man did, and both of them stared at the people hurrying to get out of the rain, the cars spraying puddle water on the sidewalk.

"I am talking about offering you a means for a steady income, Kurosaki Ichigo-san."

He stiffened the moment the words left the man's mouth, he almost forgot that he had a burning cigarette clamped between his lips. When he spoke, his voice was hard and filled with spite and annoyance. "What do you mean…? What you just said doesn't even make sense. You don't even know me and yet here you are pleasantly offering me a job."

"Are you not the slightest bit curious as to who I might be, Kurosaki-san?"

"How do you even know my name?" he was being immature for even saying it but he didn't care. He was ticked off by the familiar way this man was talking to him.

"I would really prefer if we had this conversation in a much drier and more private place. Wouldn't you agree, Kurosaki-san?" the man was grinning as he got to his feet, his posture signalling that he was waiting for him to do the same.

"Fine. I'll come with…if we're gonna go somewhere to eat and have coffee…" he muttered glumly almost sheepishly as he finally stood, his hands shoved in his pockets. He was goddamn hungry and his mood was getting sourer along with his churning stomach.

"I'd appreciate it if you finished your cigarette first before we go on our merry way…" the man said in a clipped tone, his drawl lessening a bit.

He snorted before crushing his cigarette beneath his sneakered feet and giving the man a pointed look to which he only answered with a wide approving smile.

It was a quaint little out of the way posh restaurant that they settled in. The lights were dim and the place slightly shadowed, even more so with the drab weather. The upholstered seats were lined with heavily embroidered velvet and there were gold gilded sconces against the wall of every booth and bronze lamps on every table. It looked so very old world like that time when halogen lights were still an accomplishment to be. The only thing marking that even this little place has managed to survive with the times was that everything was wired.

"You can ask for whatever you want to eat and that coffee you surely look like you need…"

He turned his attention to the man who had taken off his sopping jacket and was handing it to a waiter that had set down menus for the both of them. He ordered without thinking much about what it was he chose and proceeded to just waiting as he crossed his arms. They were the only people inside and it was deathly quiet with the grandfather clock on one corner punctuating every second that passed.

In the space of a heartbeat of silence between them as they stared at each other, his breathing automatically synced with the ticking of the clock he finally blurted out the question that has been bugging him as they sat at the park earlier. "Wanna start telling me how you know my name?"

"Ah, it's a bit sad that you don't remember me at all, Kurosaki-san…" the man drew out a dramatic sigh as he placed his thumb and forefinger between his chin, but there was no amusement in his expression now. He only looked utterly serious.

"And why should I reme…" he started but trailed off almost at once as an image flashed into his mind. The suit and the umbrella and that annoying guffaw, the blond hair…with her, always with her. And where was he? He was right there, sitting like a good little boy and drinking his warm milk filling out his coloring book with all the wrong colors.

"You were there…you…" his eyes were quivering as he glared at the man across him who had leaned back on his winged chair, completely calm and relaxed. A smug little smirk curling on the corner of his mouth.

"You don't really remember…such a shame." the man sighed almost dejectedly just as their coffee arrived.

"I…do…it's just…" he muttered lamely as his eyes seem to look through the perfectly composed man and onto something playing out in his mind. Was he trying to remember? No, he perfectly knew what he could only glimpse and nothing more will ever reveal itself. That was always as far as he would go.

"You see…me and then you see her…isn't it what you mean?"

He gritted his teeth and looked away, the sandwiches being placed before him suddenly seemed unappetizing. He cursed his inability to keep his emotions hidden as he forced calm into his now shaking body.

"You seem to know all about me. Can't you just enlighten me a little more what you really know about my life?" his tone was harsh and cutting as he spoke. He was gripping the arms of the chair so hard, his knuckles were beyond blanching.

"I don't want to bring up anything about your life that you have somehow buried and forgotten so long ago. I just wanted to offer my help…I know you're not living too well and it would just be awfully inhumane on my part to leave you alone when you're in this bind." There were no more smiles now, it was all business.

"Eat and we'll talk more about my proposal." The man gestured to the plate before him and the steaming coffee to his right. "Then I'll tell you more about who I am."

He had trusted then because he didn't know what to do. It was a cycle of nothingness for him, every day, the very air becoming grayer, his tongue getting number as the days passed. He couldn't properly taste flavors, he couldn't appreciate the colors. What was supposed to be contentment he had no idea what it was anymore. Where was his? Where had that little boy gone off to? He was happy, he was smiling, he knew the sound of laughter.

It was all blank, empty. He was looking at the edge of the ledge but he won't jump, he had no intention of falling face first.

No more hands to grasp, there was only silence even in his overwhelming solitude. The walls pressing closer, inching almost to crush him. Where was he in all of this?

He was here.

He was there.

He was still.

But this man was offering him something more than he had ever had the affinity to cling to. A chance.

But was this really what he would have chosen to do? Did he ever have a choice in the first place? He liked to think he did, that he was always conscious of the choices he made. Was it difficult to accept working for The Merchant when he knew exactly what it was he was being offered? The consequence for him was unaccountable and so it never mattered as nothing ever did matter for him.

He had agreed. He did get it. What he was told, the rules, everything down to the foot notes and fine line on the margin of the contract he had signed.

The first time he had been brought to the mansion he had never known restriction until he stepped inside its abode. It had its own ideals, the binding, the pain. All of it he learned, all of it he had to overcome. The fear, the overwhelming desire and the wish for the first time to live. It pulled him out. From where, he had never asked himself before that. He had never wondered.

Was he hiding?

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><p><strong>AN:  
><strong>

**Yes...so that was a bit of Ichi's story. I do sincerely hope that you guys figured out who I was referring to in the first part. I want you guys to work out the things I tell cause I don't like just telling it so bluntly. Subtlety is one of my middle names! Hehe! The next chap will probably be the good stuff**...**or not! Bahaha! x.X**

**Do you want it to be good stuff in the next chap? Then tell me if you do! :X**

**Yeah, I'm real lazy these days so I keep putting off my writing and listening and getting really addicted to Memphis May Fire *and probably gonna hurt my neck pretty soon!* which is part of my background music as I write this fic and also Bjork, Tool and A Perfect Circle. My inspirations! :D**

**See ya all soon! :D  
><strong>

**-kimchi-**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hiya! :D**

**Yay! Update! Finally! Yay! :X**

**A/N: This is quite an EXPLICIT chappie my lovelies.(as explicit as I can come up with at the moment! o.O)**

** I dedicate this to pamianime who I know has been waiting for this. :P **

**Thank you so much everyone for the lovely reviews and the favs and alerts!**

** I'm sorry it took me a while to update this...I've been...sidetracked. :D  
><strong>

**Hope you guys like it and happy reading. :)**

**Disclaimer: Kubo-sensei is awesomeness. 3 more days to go before 348! weee~~! x.X**

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><p>•<strong>Chapter Four<strong>•

-**Master, Mistress**-

She pulled him along, past the dim corridors and shadowed hallways completely ignoring the knowing looks she kept getting from the other trainers and the slaves who were under her care before. She kept her face perfectly frozen, her eyes trained forward without pretending to return the greetings whispered here and there. All she had in mind was the body behind her following too closely, his heat that was making her skin damp, her body quickening as need overpowered the control she ought to be exercising.

It had been too long, way, way too long since she's actually taken anyone into her bed. Way too long since anyone's held her, kissed her. Way too long since she's felt that heat, that ultimate desire to possess and to take it all away. To take it so far, far away that it left them begging in the end.

The fear, the apprehension of what it would take to capture that bliss. It was so easy but maybe it was just her. She was adept at giving it, at filling them with it that they can't feel anything else. It was all the pleasure that was the overpowering one, the thing that was rapturous in its intensity and only she can push it so far higher and higher until they couldn't understand what was happening anymore. No recognition, no intellect, no nothing. It was pure white light. To put it simply—orgasm in its fullest potential. The primal instinct and the sacred dance. Such grandeur when it was all so base.

Everything they've built, this arena, this Elysium, their elaborate stage for hundreds, thousands of little productions, the make-believe turned reality always to satisfy, always to offer of course with the client's privacy ensured. It was all in the paperwork and the hefty membership fee to keep it all going.

And the Slaves. The epitome of pure unrestricted appetite for everything they offered. They want to do it even for free if it meant belonging to The Cage. Sold to the most prestigious of the elite. They would always feel special, singled out once they passed. It was all down to the irresistible contract.

Signed, sealed. Kiss. Kiss.

Rukia navigated the hallway, steering clear of the crowd until they reached the sanctuary of her private rooms. Once inside she loosened her grip on the leash and let it slip from her hand as she got behind the bar to pour herself a half glass of vodka straight. She downed the glass without flinching even once and was about to fill the glass again when her eyes met amber staring steadily at her.

"Ah…" she set down the bottle and walked towards him, cursing the blunted effect on her system of the alcohol she had just liberally consumed. The third half-glass in less than an hour and she was still not feeling anything until she was standing before this fine, fine male specimen with skin a perfect caramel, very well proportioned limbs and a handsome face that was sliding in and out of focus before her.

Oh god she was drunk without feeling the buzz.

She smiled at him, letting her lips curve up slowly. She let her eyes wander over his body as she took one step at a time to where he stood. He was watching her closely, that scowl etched deeply onto his brows marring that handsome face. She had the sudden urge to slap him for it.

"I hear tell you are the priced stallion in this auction…" she stepped to his left and traced her forefinger over his shoulder as she walked over to his other side. "Lucky me I decided to join in…and of course lucky for you too, no?" she flicked her finger off as she took a step back from him, folded her arms over her chest and looked him right in the eyes.

He was silent, seemingly undecided whether to blurt out his answer or wait for him to be told to speak. Very well trained indeed.

Her smile widened as she closed the distance between them again.

"Do you like to hurt?"

His lips twitched as though he was trying not to smile or laugh or maybe both. His eyes were bright with amusement as he looked at her. But she didn't find anything about her question amusing. She narrowed her eyes and placed her open palm against his chest, ignoring for the moment the leash hanging from his neck as she pushed him back against the wall with deliberate roughness. When his back made a satisfying thud against the wood she suddenly tugged at his leash and pulled him towards the bed and shoved him onto it quickly climbing over him and straddling him comfortably as she leaned towards him until they were a mere breath apart.

He did not make a noise and merely complied with every tug, with every pull and push and shove. He felt so hot it was flowing onto her, stirring her own, stoking the fire within her to burn along with his. She sucked in a breath as she ran her hand over his muscular chest, her lips trailing hot kisses on his jaw then to his neck. She bit and nipped at his taut skin and licked tasting his salty sweat, that all masculine musk.

Beneath her she could feel him trembling, he was fighting his quickly escalating arousal. The instant the thought crossed her mind she immediately stopped and pushed back from him to look at his face. He had his eyes closed and his skin was coated with sweat, his arms were stiff, his muscles coiled and rippling as he struggled not to struggle against his bindings.

A knowing smile started to spread on her lips as she let her hands wander down to his hips as she lowered her body right where he was in complete attention. But she was still watching him and when she slipped one hand under his waistband his eyes snapped open at once as he craned his neck to peer at her. His eyes were wide but they were hazy with desire and he seemed like he was struggling to keep himself still and to let her do as she pleased. He sucked in a shaky breath when she grabbed him and when she started to lower his pants with her other hand.

As a rule she doesn't normally do this to new slaves but it was an effective way to make him let go and stop resisting until she was causing him pain so great he will remember to live with it for as long as she wanted him to. Until her very presence was a reminder of that bittersweet taste of pure pleasure.

His eyes were begging her not to do it, he knew what she wanted to do with him and he was silently pleading with her not to do it. But she answered him by gripping him tighter and licking his dripping tip. She added pressure to her strokes as she ran her tongue over the underside. His breathing was becoming harsher but she was just getting started.

With a smirk she released him and straddled his firm abdomen arching her back as she started to unbutton her blouse very slowly, exposing more of her creamy skin little by little. When she looked down again she saw he was watching her very closely as she slipped her blouse off leaving an expanse of soft milky skin shining with sweat, her sweetly pink nipples erect.

Her buzz was starting to hum in her head making her grin as she lowered herself against his bare chest. They were both slick with sweat now, their skin sticking hotly as she raised herself higher up his torso so that her breasts were hovering over his mouth. He had parted his lips at once, his hazy eyes admiring her breasts with open desire.

She gripped his shoulder as she lowered herself to his open mouth and he hungrily took one nipple and sucked harshly making her gasp. She twined her fingers through his hair and tugged as she pinned him down nearly pulling out his hair in the process as she struggled to free herself from him.

He had his eyes opened wide now and she can tell she was causing him pain but they were both silent, their breathing quick, the heat between them intensifying.

"Bad boy…" she muttered sternly making him grin, an irresistible curve of those sensuous lips. Soft, demanding. Yes those lips will drive any woman to the point of insanity.

"Hmm…" she leaned down almost pressing herself against him as she reached down to stroke him lightly and kissed his neck sucking hard as she tightened her grip on him. He was so hard against her hand she knew he was already in pain but she had decreased her pressure again and let her fingers slide up to his chest leaving him heaving for breath as he shut his eyes tightly.

She watched him closely, studied his body's reaction. It was instantaneous and had he not been bound or their roles had been reversed she would probably be seeing white right now. He will become a very important little piece of the game when the time is right. And all he needs to learn is total control and she was going to pound it onto him until he functioned with it without thinking of how to do it properly. The efficiency of the best of the best, unhesitating. Pure quality. An unforgettable memory enough to come back for again and again. To possess, to want, to desire, to love.

But right now he needs to be properly punished. She placed both hands on his hips, keeping him steady as she admired his length. Examining every part of his anatomy for any sign of irregularity or deformity that might have been hidden so that it saves time for them to send them away just after the Open Season when they have already been listed in the directory.

Of course this one had none. Completely perfect. Beautiful even. He will be her trophy.

She slapped him lightly and was satisfied with his sudden hiss of pain. She licked her lips slowly in anticipation when suddenly there was a knock on the door. Rukia stiffened she knew that knock and as always it sent her heart beating so fast her buzz was intensifying.

The door swung open after the third knock and a voice spoke with half amusement and half controlled anger prompting her to finally look up. "Oh…I'm sorry. I thought you were alone."

She could hear the implied meaning of his words echoing in her head. _I thought you were waiting for me_.

Gray eyes flashing, lips in a thin line he ran a hand through his messy dull red hair. He wasn't looking at her rather he was busy glaring at the body before her whose very stiff cock was right on her face.

"I'll just…come back later…" his voice was tight and a muscle on his jaw was twitching.

Rukia blinked but when she saw he was about to go she shot to her feet and wound her arms around his chest before lacing an arm over his neck to pull him in for a slow, sensual kiss full of longing. She felt him smile against the kiss as he deepened it.

It's been some time since the two of them saw each other. He was away on a private little island by request of a very influential client and she was on vacation.

But she can't be distracted right now. Three months until the Open Season and for that time she will only be in constant contact with the slave she had under her care at the moment. Me time will be rare and she wanted this man kissing her like there's no tomorrow. Yearned for him.

"Later…" she whispered next to his ear breathlessly as she playfully pushed him out the door. She gave him a smile before she closed it shut. She took a moment to catch her breath before turning her head slightly to the orange haired man who hadn't budged. He was watching her, just watching her with something in his eyes. But they were so dark she couldn't make it out properly.

She felt flushed all over, the heat becoming too much. She was tingling and aching at the same time.

She didn't plan on it but she needed it. Already she could feel it pulsating, growing wetter.

Walking towards the edge of the bed, standing before him she unzipped her pants and let them pool down her ankles. She watched him as his gaze roamed her nakedness, every bit of her milky skin exposed. Placing both arms to his either side she crawled on top of him again, hovering over him on her hands and knees.

"You've been awfully quiet…good boy." She leaned down to speak against his lips. "Good slaves ought to be rewarded don't you think?" she reached down to grab him again and pressed his tip against her wet folds and very slowly sunk down on him inch by delicious inch.

She kept her eyes fixed on his unwavering ones and they held each others' gazes even as she started moving her hips. She quickened her pace, his hardness and thickness exciting her and she was feeling the pleasure quickly building as she tightened around him fast it didn't take long for him to explode inside her with a grunt, his chest heaving. She bit her lip as she came soundlessly their locked stares never once broken. She was breathing quickly through her nose as she got off him and rolled over to lie on the space to his right.

She closed her eyes, feeling a bitter taste on the tip of her tongue. She shouldn't have done what she just did. Now she was left with another plaything. She keeps reminding herself to pay them equal attention but in the end there will always be a favorite but will always be kept away, always shared. It wasn't her own, they would always leave and go their own way.

She glanced at the man beside her who was still not speaking and found he was looking at her curiously, no judgment just curiosity.

She didn't want to know him, she did not wish to know his thoughts. He will leave too one day after he's had enough but she couldn't leave. She was a constant, the ticking clock, the mechanism of the entire system.

Still a little kiss wouldn't hurt. He had been a good boy for the first day. And she wanted to kiss him.

She turned to her side and scooted closer, hooking her thumb on his collar and pressed her lips on his. She had meant for it only to be a smooch but he had other ideas as he slipped his tongue in her mouth.

It was sweet, careful which totally threw her off balance but she craved it. This tenderness, surprising softness.

Ah, he will be her trophy indeed.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviews are very much appreciated. Comments, suggestions are all welcome for everyone's satisfaction. :)<strong>

**See ya all soon!**

**-kimchi-**


	6. Chapter 6

**Update! Yay! :D**

**A/N: WOAH! O.O I get a surprise everytime I check on this story!**

**Thank you everyone for MORE FAVS and MORE ALERTS! **

**AND MORE LOVELY REVIEWS! Aww~! They make me tear up and laugh at the same time which really makes me look a little weird...**

**but reading them just makes me really, really happy! :D I can't stop grinning like an idiot!**

**And with that I give you the new chap. Hope you guys like it.** **:)**

**Thank you so much everyone for the awesome reviews! I can't reply to them one by one like I usually do cause it'll take up too much space so I'm sorry! But I am very grateful for all of them. I'll just randomly give replies to everything in general. :)**

**No it wasn't Renji and to you guys who might have read my other stories the description I gave must've been familiar so yes it is indeed Ashido.**

**I didn't plan on going hardcore with the s/m business cause I am planning on just making it a backdrop for this story, a little excitement.**

**This is still an IchiRuki! Hahaha!  
><strong>

**But it will still be there never fear the lemons will be here. :) **

**I think you guys already have an idea of how this story will pan out and that makes me really happy. :D**

**So if you're a fan of tragic stories with happy endings I suggest you go read another story!**

**Cause I'm not gonna go Jane Eyre on this one! :D  
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** For the outfits...(you silly bunny stealing my line! x.X)** **we shall see...hmm...****hahaha!**

**Disclaimer: Kubo-sensei is awesome. :X**

**Byakuya-sama at the beginning of 473 made me want to faint! Bahaha!**

**So friggin' smexy! O.O  
><strong>

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><p>Put some fear in the company now<br>Don't lose your cold dear  
>Fear in the company now<br>Keep it right

She come in alone  
>A firestorm<br>Waitin' on a spark  
>Leaving me alone she feels it after dark<br>Keep it down boys  
>The fire inside<br>Figure it out sort it out  
>Your foot in the mouth<p>

-**The Gayng's-**

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><p>•<strong>Chapter Five<strong>•

-**Asleep before awakening**-

He could hear them in the bathroom. Hear them whispering, hear her soft laughter followed by more whispered words and a bit of silence. Then the silence finally started to stretch on. There was no more sound and he just kept staring blankly at the ceiling, one arm at the back of his head the other over his bare chest. With a small yawn he reached for the pack of Marlboro lights she placed by the night stand earlier and lit one. Taking a deep drag he finally let himself think about his first day in.

It was all finally happening, everything he's striven for in a semi-haze of fucked up wishes. Crossing shit off his list. But he could feel it, he could practically see it, watch as it slipped from his clenched hands. He'd be lucky if he did manage to survive three months with her.

But nothing has even been decided yet. It was all a test. This, her and everything that will be happening in the next months. And his actions thus far would almost certainly warrant him a quick shove out the magnificent double doors and straight out of those imposing wrought iron gates back to the streets for mere lack of decorum.

He could almost find it funny if he knew how to laugh at his own pathetic attempt at obeying the rules. It wasn't in the contract, he was supposed to be messed up and in the end nothing really adds up. He was grasping at loose threads now, gonna fall down the ledge.

He was a stupid, stupid boy indeed. Doomed to epic proportions—perfectly irredeemable. And it had all been because he kissed her like that. He knew it was wholly unreasonable, a sudden streak of his notorious brashness. But his instincts kicked in and he just went with it or maybe he was just trying to reason with himself, willing to come up with an excuse for his behavior, his bursts of disobedience.

A kiss! A kiss of all things mindless and artlessly stupid in a place like The Cage. It was just that everything about this woman was drawing him towards her, like he couldn't help but gravitate and respond to her littlest movement. The tiniest hint of intimacy, false or intended he was finding himself immersed in it with her. And to think it was only just beginning.

He felt his chest constricting and only then did he notice he wasn't breathing. His hands were free and he wished they were still bound even tighter than they permitted. He longed suddenly for the pain, the real pain. It was all too much but still it wasn't nearly enough.

With a sudden burst of anger he crushed his cigarette on the crystal ashtray, bending it viciously in half so that it now lay crooked against the scattered ashes on the blackened bottom.

He hadn't moved from his perch on the bed after he had taken a quick shower and changed into a fresh pair of pants. When the red head slave came back just after sunset they looked at each other, a fleeting glance, a nod then she was in his arms and they were kissing again. He watched her, how her body had suddenly gone soft in this man's arms, the smile that made her features so lovely. A happiness between them but he knew it wasn't real. There was a gulf even when they were pressed so close to each other, when they were clutching at the other.

Ichigo shook his head. He wasn't here for any kind of attachment. No companionship needed. It wasn't what he signed up for. But seeing this, a longing for something that isn't even really there it made him wonder why he did kiss her in the first place when kissing was what he avoided the most. Kissing was intimate, far too intimate for him and he didn't like it.

Sex was different. There could be as much detachment in sex as one wanted. Craving was all it took. A man, a woman passing by seemingly innocently but there was that hunger in their eyes, a dark desire that they were afraid to show to just anyone but it was there. It always finds it way to be released. That secret side of their sexuality they both fear and want.

Of course it was always scary at first, when this dark desire starts to manifest itself and suddenly it leaves you breathless, sends your world spinning. That awakening that suddenly places you in a different category. Sometimes it made you look back and wonder what it was, where it came from.

A lover's hand to tighten around your neck and press the wind pipe as far as they are capable and willing. Restriction and control, make them want but let them wait. Let the pain come first.

He had known both sides, he knew all of it. But the moment she had appeared before him, this woman who was probably fucking another man right now, things just shifted in his head. And yet his little epiphany doesn't change the fact that he was a tool about to be sharpened, shaped in accordance to The Cage's particular mold. The epitome everyplace else could only dream to attain.

To be among those who can understand what they want fulfilled. The twisted hunger. The missing link, the broken thing inside everyone of them who practiced it, who had made it a lifestyle. A means for a living. To break through, to find the purpose, to see the purpose. But there really isn't any because it is just what it is.

His eyes drooped closing slowly, his arm falling to the side. He must've fallen asleep because when he next came to the room was dark and he could just make out the faint sound of a record playing. Not from surround speakers but vintage vinyl, a real long playing—scratchy and warbly. It was a bluesy jazz tune, nostalgic and full of flavor.

Very slowly he turned his head towards the window and landed on a small curled up profile. There she was sitting on the satin daybed, a glass in her hand and her milky skin glowing faintly. He could hear her singing softly with the song, her low voice just perfect.

She seemed even lonelier to him, folded onto herself with a blank look in her eyes. He caught a glimpse of it when she had grabbed that bottle of vodka, seemingly forgetting his very existence only to remember it as she was about to pour herself a second glass. He knew that feeling. She was peering inside the bottle, looking for a glimpse of a person. A reflection long lost. Only shadows now.

Maybe she was the reflection as he himself had often wondered in one of his drunken stupor. Or she was looking for something else, an exit maybe.

He watched her for a while, watched the lost look on her face. She seemed so vulnerable to him. There was an innocence in that almost childish face. He had the sudden urge to wrap her tiny body in his arms, kiss that graceful and slender neck the cut of her hair was perfectly exhibiting, beckoning to him. Her lush, silky softness he wanted it pressed against him.

But the most overwhelming thought that was running amok in his head was that he wanted to kiss her. Feel her shuddering, feel her submitting and that cool hand on his cheek pressed so lightly he barely noticed it. Even when her body was burning with a heat so intense and her skin so deliciously flushed, her hands were still cool.

He closed his eyes again and listened to the new song playing. Maybe it was Ella Fitzgerald if his limited jazz repertoire serves him right but he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he heard that song before, heard someone else's more familiar voice singing along with it.

No. He wouldn't think about those kind of things now. He shut his eyes tighter and turned his back on the still silhouette who had been watching him all along. She had been staring him right in the eyes the whole time he thought she wasn't looking, didn't even notice him move on the bed.

He heard the soft sound of her footsteps then the music suddenly stopped. Then her footsteps again coming nearer to the bed. It sagged a bit from her additional weight as she climbed over to the side he was facing. He kept rigidly still as he felt her heat hovering over him. Then her fingertips landed on his cheek so lightly it felt utterly insubstantial. He could detect the faint scent of her perfume on her wrist and it made his throat dry up. His stomach squirmed as his heart beat sped up. The accursed desire bubbling up yet again, lashing out, wanting, always wanting and desiring. The reaction, the reflex. But he had never felt it this quick, this rapid climax when there was no touching involved at all. Just being near her was doing something to him. Smelling her, feeling her heat.

It was addicting to him, her presence.

Her breath fanned across his face, hot and smelling of something sweet and fruity. She'd been drinking wine it seemed. He felt the feathery press of her lips against his, her fingers sliding down his cheek to his neck then to the back of his ear. Purely titillating and thrilling. He felt himself throb with the sudden intensifying of his desire. Then as suddenly as she had approached she drew away from him and fell back onto the pillows, her small body curled up against his as she burrowed her head against the crook of his neck. She pressed a kiss on his shoulder, her fingers treading through his hair.

She was humming faintly a different tune than the one she just turned off. He didn't know what it was only that it was sad and it lulled him to sleep before he could even feel it creeping in.

When he opened his eyes again it was morning. The sun was shining and everything was bright around him. He glanced to his side and found he was alone on the bed and the space where she had been lying on the night before was cold, almost like she had never been there at all. He sat up groggily running a hand through his messy hair and yawning a bit.

He looked around him, finally free to inspect his surroundings. It was a rectangular shaped room with beige walls and light gray highlights. It was subdued and very feminine. Lace on the pillowcases, satin coverlet, peach silk and gossamer curtains that made the morning light fall warm on the entire room softening the intense whiteness of the opaque glass window which spanned the entire width of the wall.

The bed frame was wrought iron and the paint coming off rather decoratively for that antique effect but in this case it might actually be the real thing. And the day bed was all decked out with lavender satin sheets.

There was an intricately framed silver gilded polished mahogany boudoir on the corner by the window directly on the space where the daybed ends. The furniture were also polished mahogany down to the tables with the tiny embroidered lamps and also the phonograph table.

There was a bookshelf covering almost an entire portion of a wall across the bed that opened to the narrow hallway to the bathroom. By the looks of it the books lined up on the shelves seemed real and by the lines on the spines they were very well read. He felt himself smile at the sight. At least when he was cooped up in here he could find something to entertain himself with.

There were a few paintings hung on the empty spaces. Propped up on the floor or hanging on the wall. Some he could recognize and others he had no idea what it was even trying to convey. But there was little of color in this room, everything was muted and soft. This room wasn't one of the elaborately made up little stages, this room was in all actuality lived in. This room was real and personal.

This room was hers. He could detect the stamp of her presence in it, the scent of her perfume clung to every piece that made up this room.

He froze, suddenly feeling like an intruder just for being in here like this. He had slept on her bed, had bathed in her shower, used her soap. He had intruded into her private space without warning, without ceremony. But she had brought him here. He had merely followed as she pulled him along like the newly sold indoctrinated slave that he sought to be for her—his master. All thoughts had been nullified when she had put on that collar on his neck and he was lost in that haze of desire. He knew she wanted him and his body had submitted to her whim and it had been done.

Now he was left in suspense again. She wasn't in the room, he was the only one there and his hands were still left unbound.

Scowling deeply he got to his feet and headed for the bathroom quickly stepping out of his pants and stepping into the warm shower. He might as well make himself presentable when she comes back that is if she does come back.

He had just stepped out of the shower, dripping wet when he caught sight of her casually leaning on the door frame. He had carelessly left the door open thinking that he might hear her when she came back but he didn't even hear the door opening nor the sound of her footsteps. She was still in a negligee, her breasts pushed up by her arm, her hip jutting out and her hair beautifully tousled. She looked like she just got up from bed.

He stood there naked before her as they looked at each other. There wasn't any expression on her face and the surprise that had flashed on his face at seeing her there was gone now. He was just looking at her looking at him. They stayed like that for a moment, neither moving nor looking away until she spoke.

"Draw the water for my bath. Not too hot but not lukewarm either…"

The sound of her voice broke the spell as he was jarred back from his daze to attend to her order. She didn't move merely stood there with the same expressionless face as she waited for him to do as she said.

Steam almost filled the bathroom by the time he was done preparing the water. Against the sound of the water spilling from the tap he heard the distinct sound of silk rustling followed by the faint sound of her small feet against the marble flooring. She leaned over him and daintily let her fingers glide through the water's surface. Her breasts were pressed lightly against his shoulders and her arms wound around him as she leaned her cheek on his damp hair.

"Bathe me…" the moment the words were out of her mouth she straightened up and slipped into the tub with her back to him. He had an unobstructed view of her plump and perfectly shaped bottom and her slender yet shapely short legs. Her tiny waist that if he placed both of his hands on either side it would fit completely.

It was admirable, this petite body. The dainty curves, the slopes of her hips, the flatness of her stomach. Her soft silky skin so hot to the touch. That smooth porcelain skin.

She turned her head a bit when he only kept on kneeling there doing nothing and just kept staring at her figure before him like an idiot.

"Have you never bathed a woman before?..." her voice was soft, purely inquisitive.

He kept silent, suddenly embarrassed with his lack of experience with the simple task. But he had never had to do it before, never had to service them like that since all they wanted was his body and nothing more. Kissing was even unnecessary for some and he found those terms perfectly agreeable.

She smiled, a slight curve of her lips before she faced away from him again. "You can start with the sponge and the soap on that white bottle beside it." She raised her hand from the water to point at the rack to his right. He picked up the things and waited for her next instruction.

He watched her for a moment as she reached for a bottle from the collection on the low decorative table on the side of the tub. She tipped it, letting perfumed oil mix into the water. It was a light and sweet flowery scent.

"Squeeze the bottle onto the sponge and gently apply it on my skin…move it in small circles…apply just a little bit of pressure." she was leaning over the rim of the tub now, her skin perfectly flushed with the heat of the water.

He scooted closer to her and gently raised her left arm from the water and massaged the sponge over her skin starting from her tiny wrists and up to her shoulder then her chest as she had directed. Maybe it was the heat, the perfume of the water rising with the steam. But he couldn't remember when he had pressed his body so close to the tub nor when she had slightly raised her body so that her head was resting against his chest as he lightly ran the sponge between her breasts softly like a caress.

Her nipples were erect and he couldn't help himself as his other hand joined the other in paying close attention to them. He pinched one swollen nub between his fingers as he ran the sponge over the other.

She didn't move, didn't resist and she didn't reprimand him for his behavior and merely stayed still with her eyes closed.

He shifted the sponge to his other hand to work on her right arm and shoulder while his other hand was kneading her breast eliciting a little sigh from her. He leaned in closer, letting his hand go lower down the contour of her waist and her hips and gliding lightly between her legs. He gave the inside of her thigh a little squeeze while his bent wrist grazed her every so slightly. She was already hot and it wasn't just the water making her flushed skin blush a deeper shade of crimson. Her lips were parted now as she tilted her head to the side giving him free access to her neck and shoulder.

She was so soft, so smooth , so supple and her heat was driving him a little insane. He wanted to tie her up and lick every inch of her delectable skin and take his time just tasting her. He wanted to make her want him, really want him. He wanted to make her want only him.

He heard a soft splash as she raised a hand only for it to fall back into the water while with her other hand she was gripping the edge of the tub. He hadn't even noticed that the sponge had slipped from his hand and was floating languidly somewhere near her bent knees.

He sucked on her skin as he kneaded her breast a little more incessantly while he worked her into a frenzy. He could feel her pulse speeding up as she grew warmer against his hand. He kissed her neck harder, leaving little marks on her pristine skin, biting, licking. She smells so good it was definitely driving him more than a little crazy.

She was moaning softly and she was making those little sounds right next to his ear as he trailed light kisses on her cheek, a little kiss on the corner of her parted lips.

His hand left her breast as he parted her legs just a little while she angled her hips to give him better access. It didn't take long for him to build up a rhythm. Her body was quivering as he pressed harder, faster making her moan louder. Her arm snaked to the back of his neck, her fingers gripping his hair tightly and he took it as a sign to go a little faster and press even harder. His lips on her neck, his tongue on her skin tasting her sweat.

"Bit me…harder!" she pleaded in a breathy moan. He looked at her looking him in the eye and it finally hit him, she's been leading him on making him respond to her coercion, unconsciously submitting to give her pleasure. The thought made him deliriously smug. The best indeed.

The best indeed.

He bit down on her neck hard. Hard enough to bruise. He bit on her neck so hard it was starting to make his teeth numb but he didn't mind she was practically quaking now. She wanted the pain, longed for the pain he was giving her.

"Yes!..." She was gasping, the feel of her skin scalding him and the sensation of it alone brushing against him almost made him want to come right then. He gritted his teeth as he fought against his painful erection, fought the need to be enveloped by her heat, to be buried deep inside her softness.

"Come for me…" He pressed his lips to her ear as her fingers pulled at his hair even harder. He didn't even notice. He was only focusing on the intense pain swarming in from every direction, assaulting and making his senses go off wherever which way. But the sudden pleasure of hearing her scream her release, her body thrashing wildly alleviated it all. His stomach clenched and a moment later he was spilling all he's worth with a low growl of satisfaction.

Both of them suddenly became very still, their breathing uneven and harsh. Even with their arms tangled, her damp hair sticking to his skin there was a stiffness where their bodies touched. She was still leaning against him but the warmth was slowly fading, the water growing cooler. The steam had all but evaporated.

He could feel it again. His heart was still ramming against his chest. His high full on. But there was something gnawing at him, a silent mental siren heralding the coming of the unleashed demons kept buried. And for the first time in a long time, he could feel cold dread wrapping his body in its restricting embrace. Something was absolutely wrong.

He stared at the back of her head, his scowl deeper than ever and his mouth set. The damp coldness around them made him shiver but she barely gave any sign of moving and he was uncertain whether he was allowed to budge since she had now gripped his wrists securely in both her small hands. Her nails biting against the inside of his arm. It wasn't enough to draw blood but the pain was stingingly sharp making him bite his lips as he felt the instant stirring. Like when she had slapped him the day before. He had applauded himself then for not exploding too quickly which he was afraid of.

She was doing something to his ironclad control. She was pushing past the barriers too quickly, way too easily.

It will be a miracle indeed if he survived three months unscathed.

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><p><strong>AN2:  
><strong>

**So...that was Ichi the tragic hero. :) hehe...I'm having fun writing this as much as I hate the headaches but it's cool. I really like this chapter and after I wrote the first draft I was left staring blankly at my laptop. :X I really like how this story is unfolding cause I don't write with stuff already planned on ahead I just go with every chapter or two at the least. So it's amazing how you guys say they just flow nicely and all. *blushes furiously* In all my stories here this is by far my favorite and it's really awesome that a lot of people are liking it too. *grins widely*  
><strong>

**Thank you for reading! Hope to hear what you guys think of this and comments...and all that. :)  
><strong>

**Thank you again!**

**See you all soon!  
><strong>

**Salamat! :)**

**-kimchi-**


	7. Chapter 7

**Yay! Update! :D**

**A/N:  
><strong>

**MORE REVIEWS, FAVS & ALERTS! WOAH! O.O**

**Thank you so much everyone! *big grin***

**Wow, your feedback really got me thinking about stuff and a lot about this fic...hehe.**

**I got to say I don't really write hardcore smut I'm more into the aesthetic way of writing them. :D**

**And thank you for liking how I write them. :D**

**Your reviews really make me giddy everytime! Thank you again everyone for liking this fic. :)**

**Disclaimer: Ahh~! How awesome is the new chap! But such a let down at the end. Still...**

**Kubo-sensei is awesome! :X  
><strong>

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><p>Trying to keep the words from coming out<br>You didn't care to know  
>Who else may have been you before<br>I want a lover I don't have to love

I want a boy who's so drunk he doesn't talk  
>I got a hunger and I can't seem to get full<br>I need some meaning I can memorize  
>The kind I have always seems to slip my mind<p>

-**Bright Eyes-**

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><p>•<strong>Chapter Six<strong>•

-**Paper Doll Girl**-

It was pretty, the lights playing brilliantly against the jagged edges. She felt herself smile at the sight. She wanted to reach for it then maybe their brilliance will touch her, brighten the things around her from the inside. But a hand swatted hers away with a sharp slap and she recoiled at the contact, her head twisting to the side to frown at the woman hovering before her, hands on her hips.

"What are you doing, Rukia-sama?"

Ah, it was her assistant. Her white hair perfectly coiffed as usual, a few loose waves framing her face. She had it slightly curled today while she on the other hand had merely ran a hand through her own and left her room in a trail of her signature French perfume. Her small body fitted in a black satin bodice dress with the knots drawn and tied up front and a sheer cream lace blouse with puffed sleeves that displayed the small swell of her breasts nicely.

That was two hours ago and she was just on her way down the floor to follow that glass that had slipped from her hand.

"I'm sober." She raised a hand, palm facing forward and waved it a bit as she struggled to stand up. Ignoring her assistant's worried frown and the way her icy blue eyes seem to follow her every movement with minute intensity or how her hands were twitching at her sides as if preparing to catch her if she tripped.

"Shirayuki…" she tilted her head a bit, staring at the woman from the corner of her eye. She had always admired her. How this woman moved with dignified grace, her chin held high as she navigated the hallways past the shackled slaves, the cries of unrestricted pleasure, the whimpering noises and the jangle of the chains. That icy exterior that she had come to realize was almost a reflection of her own. It made her want to laugh. What a pair the two of them must make in the hierarchy of The Cage!

Rukia had personally trained her and she had been the very first slave she had taken under her supervision. She didn't seem to belong to such a place when she first came and maybe neither did she but both of them were here. Their feminine softness and the brutality of their personality just balances it out nicely. No room left for doubt nor reason. Pure autonomy.

"What is it, Rukia-sama?" worry had creeped into Shirayuki's usually passive voice before she suddenly cleared her throat, her gaze straight as she pretended to smooth out her skirt. Ah, she knew her mistress too well. Rukia bit on the smile about to spread on her lips as she turned her head away again.

"Bring Ashido to me…" she reached for a new glass as she watched the woman excuse herself with a bow. She eased her limp body a little straighter against the bar, focusing on keeping her hand get a steady grip on the bottle she was holding.

She really was sober if she wanted to talk to Ashido now. Last night they just soaked in the tub smoking, drinking a little and she had asked him to tell her about his trip. She had let him talk in that low voice, soothing to her, familiar. She had laughed at the right moment, smiled with as much ease as she could muster. But he had seen through it and she had been a fool for even trying. She ended up clinging to him, letting him wrap her in his arms, comforting but not stirring. They just stayed like that for a long time, letting silence settle in where words were incompetent to fill.

She could never be cynical with him. She had often wondered at that. What makes it so easy to be so at ease with herself whenever she was with him. And that calm would always follow him out the door afterwards. Nothing really stays, even feelings. They were the quickest to go with just a bat of an eyelash. Not a trace left.

She didn't have to wait long for him to join her. She barely found the time to pour herself another glass when his arms were wrapping around her from behind, squeezing her lightly.

"Citrus still tied to your bedpost?" he sniffed her neck directly over the pulse beating steadily and she felt him grin. Just like the grin he had on last night.

"Blindfolded him too..." she smiled, closing her eyes as his familiar warmth enveloped her. Still the heat that used to burn between them everytime they would stand near each other was cooling. It was just a faint spark now, embers at the very least. Always too soon, too soon.

"His sessions starting early, huh?" his tone was light but she could detect a faint edge to it.

She turned to face him, leaning away from his body so she could look at his face. There it was that grin. It wasn't resigned just accepting.

"Wanna talk about it?" he pressed his forehead lightly against hers, his voice soft.

"Probably…" she whispered right back.

"Still not drunk enough for it?" there was laughter in his voice now.

"Don't tempt me…" she placed her forefinger over his lips, a seductive smile on her own.

He smiled, the grin finally cracking and he sighed as he pulled her body to his. It felt like being covered by a blanket, it feels safe. His heartbeat was as steady as hers.

Rukia blinked at the room before her. At the familiar dark wood panelling, the bronze sconces with their dim orange light. The carpeted floor, her heels sinking into their lush softness. The framed 50's posters for Burlesque shows, the pin-up girls with their 'skimpy' outfits and feathers and garters. All safe, preserved beneath a sheet of clear glass, black frames keeping them imprisoned looking out at them looking in. Finding beauty in their muted exhibitionism, finding them erotic. A sharp current of electricity to the brain.

She wasn't pretending anymore. Not now and maybe never again. Curse the open Season for coming on too long. She didn't want to struggle anymore. The bindings, that first taste of real fear washed away by a bit of vodka, burning down, down her throat. But this fear inside her was nothing like the pleasure bound tightness. It was the harsh grip and the realization that she had been slipping slowly, gradually.

Amazing how it all started to make a semblance of rationality inside her head. She did not serve on the moral ground and yet now she was finding things around her perverse, undignified, wholly unbalanced but she craved it. It was a constant longing engraved in her very soul, the body was just a means to produce the intended result.

But it wasn't always. There were times of absolute lucidity that made her cringe at herself. The way she was with these willing slaves, always giving in to her coercion. She didn't want it anymore. She wanted someone to resist, to rebel against her control.

She slid away from his embrace, still looking at the room before her with sullen gracelessness. The wanton hype was dying down. It was all bland now. Terrible, terrible greyness.

Her lips were moving and yet she had no idea what was coming out. Ashido would not understand her yet. She felt that if she saw him there would be something, a revelation of some kind. But all she could get from him was this inquisitive silence. He wanted to know but he didn't understand what it is he wished to know from her. He didn't even understand himself why he was drawn to her.

At first she wondered too what could it be. She thought it was the loneliness in him that he saw reflected in her, another physical connection to belong somewhere you wanted to. Maybe it was the show of strength she puts on, the show of instilling fear in the slaves. It always attracts them because it was the need to be subdued unleashed and finally freed.

She hadn't noticed she was still talking, her face a made-up little mask perfectly able to fool even her own brother. Her mind was straying, going back to this morning and remembering the heat of the water lapping at her burning skin. The arms wound around her and the body leaning over her possessively, his breath tickling her ear as he whispered: _come for me_.

Ah, how it had played out seemed too mysterious to her suddenly. She had the inexplicable desire to switch places with him and have him hold the leash. The want to be subservient to him seemed to cloud her mind. The delicious deliberate trade of master and slave then back again. It was an intricate little ritual and she had been the best practitioner in that category. She was a natural, she understood how it worked that it felt more like a trick than an actual mental domination.

Ichigo. He was turning tings upside down. No time to catch her breath now. His beauty is fast becoming a distraction for her. She's never seen a slave like him before. So powerfully raw, intensely possessive and so prone to humiliation. But she really did not wish to subjugate him. No. But to harden him and not let him function too much like she does. The total disregard for everything but.

She had seen the look in his eyes. She thought she had recognized it, had even seen it somewhere before. The possibility of reaching out to something right before you and the fear of not being able to hold on enough to fully grasp it.

A blur of white near the door and the faint trace of that darkly poisonous perfume. Rukia looked up just in time to catch the frown on Shirayuki's brows as she looked at them. She never did approve of her wily ways but as always she never do protest. She just observes in silence, the grief adequate for some reason.

Suddenly remembering she was in the arms of another man. Dispassionate and aloof. The terrible sadness that never comes she struggled to look him in the eye. To look at that face one last time and feel something.

"Be good now…" she patted him on the chest and kissed his cheek before she eased out of his embrace.

He had his eyes closed, a little smile to honor the occasion as he took a step back from her.

Yes, too innocent still. Seen too little of true suffering. Too full of his own ambitions, his own wonderings. Everyone was preoccupied especially him. She had known it all along and that was why she chose him. He always kept his toes in the line—even now.

"Always…" another smile and then he was out the door, his bare feet barely made a sound as he left.

Rukia gripped the glass tighter, her gaze hollow as she stared at the golden fleur de lys on the burgundy wallpaper on one side of the room. She thought once that it was elegant now it just seemed cheap and monstrously gaudy to her.

She was afraid. It was a fear straight out of nowhere but she knew it was coming and she couldn't stop it. She couldn't go back to her room now. The fear was clinging to her, shrouding her with its blackness and utter desperation. She wanted to struggle just a little more.

Rukia raised her head a fraction to peer at the still woman to her left ,"Tell Matsumoto she's in charge of the morning session…" she paused a breath without bothering to attach a smile. "Make sure she gives me a report at the end…go."

She stood up, abruptly turning her back against the retreating woman and made her way to the phonograph. Turning up the volume she put in Bach's six sonatas and deftly let the needle hop on the spinning record.

With a little smile, she closed her eyes savoring the drink in her hand as she sipped a generous amount. Such a fitting soundtrack for her state of mind. She would have loved to have heard these pieces played in a gothic cathedral. The acoustics of the structure bringing to life the composer's vision of how it ought to sound in its absolute completion. Each note, each stroke of the bow, the _pianissimo_ so soft and so sweet and then _forte_. Heartbeats racing, the elation.

Her smile widens, her eyes closed lightly feeling peace. The drink suddenly forgotten. The fear ought to have been there but now it wasn't. Only calm now. Absolute, deathly calm. She will be ready later. Instil the fear, function, coerce, let them believe in love so fucking absolute it rips their hearts off their chests. Entertain and satisfy. It was all there is.

Make-believe.

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><p><strong>AN2:  
><strong>

**So that was Ruki...it's all up to you how you go about reading my stories I don't really want you guys to read every word at face value****. :X Unlike some people who mistook me for a sixteen year old girl! *insert crying face* Dammit! Anywho...  
><strong>

**Thank you for reading! Comments, reviews are very much appreciated and totally helpful. :)**

**So...to you guys who're also reading my other fic "Damned by Fate' you might remember I said I was gonna do a Rukia Oiran fanart, yeah? Well I did! And I have posted the link in my profile. If you're curious do check it out! Thanks! :D I also have a tumblr acct. where I might post some fanfic updates. Hehe! :X  
><strong>

**See ya all soon!**

**-kimchi-  
><strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hiya! :X  
><strong>

**Gyaaaahhhhh~! O.O**

**It's been some time since I've been back here! XD**

**I'm sorry I'm like the trollest writer here in this site! haha!**

**I started this cause I want to fix my focusing problem and it's a total EPIC FAIL. T.T**

**Gah! But I am going to continue writing this now...I think out of the multi-chaps**

**I'm currently working on here this would be the one I'll be working on for now**

**until I can finish this. So for you guys who are also reading my other stories and**

**are waiting for updates I'm really sorry!**

**So anywho...thank you for all the lovely, lovely generous reviews you guys have given this story**

**it really means a lot to me as a writer. Fanfics are really fun to write cause you can be**

**slightly serious but it's still not that serious. haha...thank you if you understood that. :P**

**Many thanks to pigsinthesky who definitely inspires and lets me work on how I really**

**well semi-wanted to write my stories and The Enemy number one you actually made me**

**want to take this a little more seriously than I have been. I'm grateful. :D**

**Lilith! You are awesome. Thanks for all the reviews and the support.**

**iloveSIDVICIOUS I never got to thank you properly eh? So thanks for all the reviews too.**

**Stay awesome! Thank you for saying I'm cool! made me giddy happy grinning like an idiot. :X**

**Anti-Anemic Pill, iAmaGoldenGod, Ari-tenshi and pamianime who are both so lovely for liking this story**

**and always reviewing. *BIG GRIN***

**I hope you guys enjoy the rest of it as it goes along. :)**

**For all the readers I am so very grateful to you! Yes YOU! :)**

**-kimchi-**

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><p>(cccome? said he<p>

mmm said she)

you're divine! said he

(You are Mine said she)

**-E.E. Cummings-**

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><p>•<strong>Chapter Seven<strong>•

**-Gaudy bits-**

Sullen. He was sulking and the busty strawberry blonde has left still laughing. His right arm was partly covering his face and a cigarette was clamped between his bloodless lips.

"Fuck."

Even the sound of his own voice sounded unnatural, strange.

"Shit."

Ah, indeed. Such words do sum up what he was feeling and thinking at the moment. It wasn't working. It didn't work even when she used her tongue, her breasts. Nothing.

"Damn."

Smoke swirled around him, the room was musky, dim. The morning light shining so brightly just a while ago was now overcast. The whiteness of it made his head hurt.

He should've been aroused so bad he should've been twitching. He even asked her to use metal handcuffs and to strike him harder and yet nothing. Total fucking unresponsiveness. System failure. Chronic on the first day. Pronounced dead after two seconds.

Footsteps sounded out the door and his heartbeat raced, pounding so loud he was almost deaf to everything else. The door swung open and she stepped in frowning, her lips in a pout and her cheeks slightly flushed from which emotion he really couldn't tell. Maybe anger would be a suitable fit. Her large eyes were hard as they fell on him curled up on the bed like a scolded child sulking. An overgrown sullen child.

"Ichigo." His name, the tone of her voice. Hearing it sent a sharp sting through him and he flinched.

She sighed and closed the door, leaning back on her heels as she pressed her back against the wood until there was a click followed by another as she turned the lock. Her frown smoothed out slightly as she stepped out of her heels and slowly walked towards the bed.

She reached out and plucked the cigarette from his lips, leaning over him and deliberately letting her cleavage hover in front of his face as she stubbed out his cigarette on the ashtray. With another sigh she climbed onto his lap none too gently, hitching the tight hem of her dress high up almost to her hips so she could place her legs on his either side.

He was really gonna get it now. No more chances. He was going to be kicked out.

"You've been a very, very, very…bad boy." she slid her body higher so that she was sitting on his lower abdomen. Her sharp nails grazing his arms from the wrists to his shoulders where she dug them hard onto his skin.

She leaned in closer to him, her perfume shooting straight up his addled brain muddling them even more. Her small body was pressed lightly against him, her satin dress caressing his bare skin, her fingertips all over him, her lips next to his ear and her breath rustling his hair slightly. Her presence was bearing down on him but he couldn't bring himself to move. To touch her, to grip her, to shake her.

The heat was spreading quickly and sweat was already making his skin damp. She moved her head, her lips so temptingly close to his. He was waiting when he knew he shouldn't. She had her eyes open, looking over his face as if she were memorizing every line, every little thing that made up his features. She wasn't moving, she was so still that it almost seemed like she wasn't even breathing.

"What is it?" the softness of his own voice surprised him but the look on her face just now made him want to whisper as if they were exchanging secrets that no one should overhear a word of. But what surprised him even more was she suddenly smiled. An instantaneous reaction so natural she would have a hard time denying afterwards.

"Ichigo…" her voice was as soft as his. Her arms wound around his neck almost lovingly. She was so gentle, her body becoming soft, so pliant against his. The heat was simmering down, a comfortable feeling was taking over. It was confusing. Now he felt as if his head had finally disengaged from the rest of his body and was floating somewhere in nowhere space.

"You do realize I should be the one asking that…" she was still smiling, still unmoving, still whispering.

He leaned in closer, she turned away. Her fragility was wrapped around her again yet she could still be so stubborn. So self assured with her wilfulness. But still she seemed so utterly breakable that if he so much as touched her in the wrong place she would shatter.

He watched her, her head turned from him with her hair shielding her face from his eyes.

"I really can't take a break in this place…"

His eyes widened upon hearing her words. Total surprise written on his face just as her arms came loose around his neck, the moment broken. Their places reinstated. He kept silent now, waiting.

"So…" her hands slid down his chest, slowly, teasingly. "Unresponsive, eh?..." her hand went lower, lower and disappeared into the waistband of his pants. She hadn't even reached him yet and he was already straining.

"Well now you don't seem to have that problem…" her voice hadn't changed as she spoke, low, enticing, seductive. Her lips so very near again, breathing each other through each other. The pull was magnetic but she was resisting and he was giving in so freely. Idiocy at its greatest, complacent and submissive. He didn't need to resist, he never wanted to and she expected him to yield indiscriminately. But he desired her. His control was slipping, the want was becoming nothing. Everything was getting jumbled up. Viral and contagious. He was sicker than sick.

He gripped her thigh, his fingers digging onto her exposed flesh. She gave a start seemingly forgetting he was unbound. Her eyes were wide now as she regarded him, her mouth in a thin line.

He narrowed his eyes that were hazy with lust. It never seem to end. She just had to appear before him and his focus was immediately on her. Watching her every move, every expression, the look in her eyes. He waits oh so patiently. He waits for her to look at him, to notice him. He knew he had to constantly wait upon her but this time it didn't feel like something he had to do. It just came to him so inexplicably with ease like he was meant to be the one to obey her every bidding, every command that comes out of her mouth. Him and only him.

He wasn't even thinking anymore as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against him. All he heard before he crushed his lips against her was the tiny gasp that escaped her parted lips after that it was all her. He was more than a little insane now. Her smell clung to his skin, her sweat on his tongue. His arms around her, their bodies pressed against each other. He could feel her heartbeat speeding up much like his own.

It was just the second day and already it felt like he'd been in her room, lying on her bed far longer. He felt like he'd known her even longer. A certain look, a certain touch. It was all too alarmingly familiar. Too close, too easy. It made him tremble in overwhelming fear. The fear of losing it all even more quickly, way too easily.

Two days and already he was all messed up so badly it left him shaking now. He wanted her and he was scared. Scared of her. So scared it was a constant numbness and a constant wishing she'd see him there before her. See him, truly see him. Hoping was not in his genetic code, he has rubbed it off until it left a faded spot rough with scratches. Dented with the punches of disappointment until he learned to stop and turn it off.

He wanted to cry and he wanted to laugh. Shout out randomly, let it all burst out. But he did none of it. He only leaned away from her and pushed her gently away from him as he turned his head his face shadowed.

She was moving again as she slowly climbed off his lap and off the bed only to return a moment later with the metal cuffs that was lying on the floor by the foot of the bed. She did not say anything and he couldn't feel her eyes on him as she cuffed him roughly. The metal bit on his skin as she pulled his arms to his back with her pressed against him, her breath on his neck and the feathery touch of her lips before she was off him again and standing beside the bed.

"Face down. Now." Her voice had gone hard, her lips twisted cruelly on the corners as she held the whip in one hand.

He flashed her a smirk as he knelt before her on the bed but her expression barely twitched. She was composed again, the lady, the mistress.

"Yes, master…"

He lowered himself down the bed his face turned to the other side so he wouldn't see any part of her. But he knew undoubtedly he would still feel it. Maybe she did too and maybe she didn't yet. But they both knew at the moment who was in control of who. Only for the moment.

His face hit the pillow at the same time surprise was etched on her face, the stern expression softening for a moment before she gripped the whip tighter and raised her arm.

It was delicious. The first lash and the cracking sound. He didn't even react. He didn't even feel a thing. He knew he was going to get a beating now but he doesn't mind if it was by her hand. The pain didn't even seem to come since all he could feel was the pleasure of her whipping him. His ears was filled with the sound of her panting. He could feel it steadily coming on, the steady rhythm of her lashing, his body thrumming, gearing up for release. He gritted his teeth, trying his damndest to control it, to keep it going on and on. Let it build up. He was finally feeling the whip against his skin and he knew his back would be raw by now.

He was panting harshly along with her and he was almost there. With a choked up groan he finally spewed. It was then that he noticed she had stopped too. She was standing over him now, he could see her light shadow as it moved closer. He hissed when her cool fingertips landed on his skin. He could hear her short breath coming in gasps coming closer then her weight on the bed as she snuggled to his side.

He didn't want to turn to look at her. His head was still spinning, the pain but it was the pleasure that was more prominent. He had never received lashing like that before. She definitely knew where to hit and how to hit. The pain came in bursts then but now it was everywhere and mingling with the aftermath of his climax.

Her fingers were treading through his hair again almost like she was patting him. He frowned, the fear was there again this time greater than the first coming. She rested her chin on his shoulder as she pressed her lips to his ear.

"Such a good response…" He felt her smile. "I have no choice but to do everything I can for you."

He could feel his throat closing up. This was the real fear he's been waiting for. Craved for. It was her.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading! :)<strong>

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